Wide Open (8 page)

"What did you sign up for?" I asked softly. Before I knew what I was doing, I felt my fingers in his. Gosh, he was so warm. He softened a little, swallowing as he searched my face for something.

"You don't want to know me, Maya. You don't want to be put into my world. It's not pretty. It's not some fairy tale that I can give you or anyone." He looked sad as he pulled his hand away. "I can't do this. I can't come and listen to them and know that I'll never be able to make amends like they can."

"But you can," I insisted. "I know for a fact that it's never too late."

He laughed sadly, without a trace of humor or malice, and spoke softly, "Maya…you don't know what you're talking about."

He spun around, gripping and rubbing his hair as he pushed through the doors and down the stairs in the parking lot.

It was my job to know what I was talking about, to help people when they needed someone to help them sort through things. I hadn't thought of Milo as one of those people. He obviously had issues about some things—I assumed his family. I knew it was a touchy subject, clearly, but there had to be a way to break him out of his own head and show him that generally, people were forgiving.

He just had to give them the chance to.

Milo

I felt awful the next day. Of course I hadn't said it in anger, but the fact that I walked out on her like that made me feel like crap. And all I wanted to do was get high on something. Anything.

It had been two years since I'd seen my family. I'd felt guilty about that because I knew Mason looked for me. At first, I didn't want to see him at all. As the anger ebbed away, I wanted to see my mother, but knew that going back would only bring them trouble if Roz was looking for me.

Would he still be? After all this time?

It wasn't that much money that I owed him to begin with…I couldn't even really remember. But the fact that the cops knew I had info and wanted me to give it up—Roz would want me dead for that alone.

Maybe I could sneak back for a quick visit, see Mom, and then come back on the sly. I needed to try to get some closure on this. If a guy just talking about his family gets me so worked up, then I needed to face this head-on and figure out what I needed to do.

There was still this part of me that wanted to be mad at Mason. Even though I know it wasn't his fault and I'd done some stupid things in my time that I was sorry for, he was still the cause of all the things that happened to me in some way.

Wasn't he?
I didn't even know anymore.

So I decided to go with my gut. I bought the things I needed before asking my boss if I could borrow some tools and for a few days off. I took my Jeep over to the center and spent a couple hours in the parking lot, doing what needed to be done as much as I could tell. Then I left a note and went home to get some clothes in a bag for the trip.

I couldn’t believe how this trip had come out of nowhere, out of seemingly nothing. I never imagined I would go back, not just because of Roz, but because…I never thought I'd want to.

As I drove through the mountains, loving the cool air that swamped in from the open doors, I thought about what that guy had said last night. He had been selfish and stupid, thought that whatever he was mad at his family for was validation for acting out and taking one more hit of whatever he could get his hands on.

When he talked about how his older brother tried to save him all the time, and it made him hate him even more…

I didn't know how I was going to feel about Mason. I guessed I would see how I felt when I saw him. More than anything, I needed to see Mamma. And then an awful thought hit me. What if something had happened to her and they couldn't find me to tell me?

I violently pushed that thought away and turned the radio up louder to drown out all my thoughts. I drove as The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" took me home.

After a few hours, I pulled into a drive-thru and got some quick dinner. I wanted to go to the house and see Mom now, like pulling off a Band-Aid. But I knew Mason would be there, and Emma—that girl he married.

Mason was married. I couldn't even wrap my head around that. It had been two years. A million things could have happened by now. They could have a kid, they could have moved, they could have put Mom in a home, though, if I was being honest, I knew Mason would never do that.

As a little bit of love for my brother seeped out, my hatred smacked it back down. I loathed this fight in me that I didn't seem to have any control over.

I checked into a motel in town and lay in the bed, the TV on, but I wasn't really watching it. I knew by that time, Maya had to have gotten off work and found my note. I hoped I hadn't messed up things too badly. I was sure she was even more cemented in her belief that two addicts shouldn't date. It was clear I had things to work out, and she probably had plenty to deal with without adding me to things.

Either way, I barely knew the girl, but she had made me feel something—something real, something not manufactured or fabricated. I didn't know how easily I could let that go, but if she wanted me to leave her alone, I would.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it.

But I would be lying if I said a girl with pale white skin and hair as black as coffee didn't star in my dreams.

I sat outside my old house on the curb for over an hour. I swallowed down the last of my Big Gulp of root beer, my last attempt at stalling. I didn't know what to say to her. I didn't know why I was scared. Mason's truck wasn't there. I knew Emma most likely wasn't there either.

I didn't even know what this meant. It wasn't like I could move back here and everything would go back to the way it used to be, even if I did want to. Roz wouldn't let me come back. I just needed to see Mom. Where we went from there…we'd cross that bridge later.

The more I sat there idly, the more I wanted to turn the Jeep around and find something to put in my veins to make me forget it all.

I pulled the sleeve of my shirt up and looked at the inside of my elbow. I hadn't used the needles long enough to leave permanent scars like some people. You could barely see the marks there anymore—not like they used to look, not like they used to feel, all bruised and angry.

I couldn't think about that now.

I swung off the seat and reached for the flowers I bought for Mamma. I didn't know why I bought them. She wouldn't remember me giving them to her, but she wouldn't remember me coming to visit either. I had to get out of the mentality that it only mattered if she remembered.
I
remembered, and it was my duty to see her and make sure she was all right. It wasn't fair to leave it all to Mason.

Guilt hit me big time as I climbed the porch stairs and looked at all the new wood that took its place. The house had been painted a pale blue. There were flowers in the yard, and the front door was different.

Mason had done all that?

I stood, staring a hole in that door. What was I going to say to her? Taking a deep breath through my nose, I raised my hand and knocked hard with my knuckles. A middle-aged woman answered the door not five seconds later. I'd never seen her.

For a second I panicked that one of my fears had come to life and they had moved, but I remembered Mason telling me he had hired a nurse for Mamma. This must be her.

"Hi, can I help you?" she inquired, looking at the flowers curiously.

"I'm…" I cleared my throat. I was sure she would know I was the scumbag son who never came to see his mom, but I said it anyway. "I'm Milo. I'm here to see my mother."

That sentence—that one sentence—brought so much guilt on me that I nearly choked.

She smiled tightly and opened the door wider. "Milo. Yes, Mrs. Wright talks about you all the time."

"She does?" I asked before it clicked. Ah, she talks about me because she still thinks I'm a sixteen year old boy living at home with her. "Yeah, uh, how is she doing?"

"In general, medically," she asked with a raised eyebrow, "or just today?"

She was subtly calling me out on not coming to see her. I deserved it. "All of the above." I gulped. "I know I haven't come to see her. I've been…away."

"I've noticed," she said and turned toward the living room. Nothing there had changed. It looked exactly like it did the day I left. "Mrs. Wright, you have a visitor."

"Who are you?" she asked the woman.

"I'm your nurse, Patti," she answered and I gathered every ounce of courage I had. "Your son Milo is here to see you."

I pushed my feet, one in front of the other, and turned the corner to see my mother. She looked older, but good. She looked healthy and well taken care of. "Hey, Mamma."

"Milo," she gasped. "Son, what happened to you?"

I went to her, pulling a chair from the dining room table over in front of her, and placed the flowers on the table next to her. The nurse took them and said she'd put them in water for her. Mom's eyes never left me as she looked me over.

I took her hand in mine. "It's been a long time, Mamma."

"Has it? Is that why you look so much older?"

I laughed. "I don't look
that
much older, do I?"

"You're different," she mused and reached out to touch my face. "It's not just your face. You're different."

I nodded. "Things change. I changed. I had to."

"Because of what happened to me?" she asked sadly.

"No, because of what happened to me," I corrected. "I made…a mess of things. I took a bad situation and made it worse, made it all about me."

She pursed her lips. "People tend to do that sometimes, son. It doesn't make you a bad person."

No, it made me an awful person. I smiled as best I could and changed the subject. "Enough about that. I missed you."

"What do you mean you missed me? Where were you? How long has it been?"

"Too long," I answered, the rest of the words getting stuck in my throat by guilt. "Too long, Mamma."

I spent the next two and a half hours there. She forgot everything several times while I was there, but I found I didn't mind that as much as I thought I would. Just being there with her at all made me feel so much better.

I asked her about sending the letter to my friend's telling me that Mason was getting married, but she didn't remember. When I went to the bathroom, I peeked inside Mason's room and saw how much that girl of his had done with the place. It was always pretty neat and clean, but the curtains matched the bed, the bed matched the pillows. There was a stack of useless and strange and fun fact books as tall as the lamp beside the bed. I wondered what that was about.

When I went into my old room, it was completely empty, save a couple of boxes and some bags of stuff that was brand new from the store.